


Keys To The Cage

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Choices, First Time, Freedom, M/M, Male Slash, Relationship(s), Sex, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:03:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron and Nasir enjoy their shore leave together, behind closed doors and beneath the sky. It will be some time before this new life untangles and becomes free in Nasir's mind. He is content to learn and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keys To The Cage

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [Thieves And Beggars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/600528). Both the title and the lyrics at the beginning of the fic come from the song 'Hoist The Colours' from the film _Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End_.
> 
> **Warning** : Contains references to slavery, and to a polygamous relationship.

_Some men have died_   
_and some are alive_   
_and others sail on the sea_   
_– with the keys to the cage..._   
_and the Devil to pay_   
_we lay to Fiddler's Green!_

_The bell has been raised_   
_from it's watery grave..._   
_Do you hear it's sepulchral tone?_   
_We are a call to all,_   
_pay head the squall_   
_and turn your sail toward home!_

_Yo, ho, haul together,_   
_hoist the colours high._   
_Heave ho, thieves and beggars,_   
_never shall we die._

 

\- ‘Hoist the Colours’

 

The shore arrived quickly after that. Nasir tried to watch it, but his eyes turned all-too-often toward Agron instead. It was attention that Agron returned just as keenly, a hungry look in his eyes. They were pressed eagerly together, side by side, from shoulder to knee. Nasir revelled in the touch he had craved for so long, running his fingers along Agron's arm, delighting in the way it changed Agron's breathing. The merest whisper of his fingers had achieved that. It made Nasir's heart sing.

 

Agron's breath was hot against Nasir's ear as he imparted quietly. “I would have you here and now, under the sky and before the sea. But I want no eyes on you but my own.”

 

Nasir let out a shaky breath, hands pressing to Agron's shoulder. “You have me.”

 

It was both too little and too much, and yet was also the only way he could express the mass of what he felt for Agron. Agron wrapped an arm around him, loose enough for Nasir to pull away from if he so wished. Still such consideration. Agron couldn't be real.

 

But he was.

 

“Prepare to land!”

 

The cry went up from Spartacus behind the wheel. The crew shouted back, rushing with great purpose to take up position, shoving each other out of the way and yelling in French and German and other languages that Nasir couldn't identify. Agron pulled away from Nasir reluctantly.

 

“I must to task, before any countryman of Crixus attempts to take my place.”

 

He gazed at Nasir for a few hungry seconds and pressed their foreheads together. He didn't say goodbye, just gave Nasir a last longing look that felt deeply like a promise. Nasir then watched him dart through the throngs that filled the deck, good-naturedly shouting replies to the catcalls he received. He seemed so at ease on the sea, perhaps lighter now than he had been before. Nasir smiled to himself; could he take credit for such a thing?

 

“He is of a form, is he not?”

 

Chadara's voice startled him and he turned to find his friend wearing a smile, though some shadow clouded her eyes. It had been many days since he had spoken to her, Nasir guiltily realised. His world has been all-too-consumed by Agron of late. He and Chadara had been quite close when under the roof of their former Master, both of like mind in their desire to serve and please. Everything had changed now though, in Nasir’s world.

 

He smiled at his friend, knowing that she would read everything in his expression. He could read her well enough to know what she had decided too. Her world hadn't changed at all.

 

“You’ll go to shore.”

 

Chadara nodded, her expression puckering with distaste as she gazed at the pirate crew. “And you will stay.”

 

Nasir nodded back and twined his fingers with hers when her hand reached out. He would miss her. She deserved a great Master and she would get one. Chadara had a fire in her belly that would not be diminished.

 

“You wear it well, your new life,” she commented. “I hope it will last. These dogs break apart too easily.”

 

“Perhaps some,” Nasir agreed. “But Spartacus…”

 

“And Agron.”

 

“…And Agron,” he grinned at her, matching her knowing tone. “Crixus too. They have goals and purpose and will not be swayed.”

 

Chadara squeezed his hand before letting go. She looked beautiful, despite the worn clothes and difficult journey. She always looked beautiful.

 

“I never thought our paths would part,” she admitted quietly. “Yet here we are.”

 

Nasir smiled, to lift them both from sadness, his tone and body language teasing. “He is of form…”

 

Chadara laughed and pushed his shoulder. “I say goodbye now, before the crew goes land-mad. Don’t worry, Spartacus’ secrets are safe, for your sake.”

 

Nasir nodded in deep thanks. Chadara could gain a great deal by revealing what she had learned of Spartacus’ purpose. She could elevate herself greatly in the right company, the right auction house, and…Nasir paused, an idea coming to him.

 

“Wait a moment, Chadara, please.”

 

His friend looked confused but nodded as Nasir rushed back to the Captain’s cabin. There were papers there, papers he had prepared himself for his own future sale when the ship's Captain had still been alive to sign them, one of many things he'd done in exchange for Nasir's company. Captain Lewis’ fate wouldn’t be discovered for some time; Spartacus had made sure of that. Why shouldn’t Chadara benefit? Nasir dipped the quill in ink and carefully finished the final details. It was perfect – no slave names were ever mentioned in such paperwork, they were property after all and property did not need a name.

 

When Nasir scrambled up on deck again, a crew member was preparing to jump ashore with the rope and others were readying to drop anchor. Chadara had remained where Nasir had left her, alone and staring hungrily at the town. He offered her the neatly-bound scroll of papers.

 

“What I earned in Captain Lewis’ cabin. I have no need of it now.”

 

Chadara’s expression widened and her fingers grasped the gift in disbelief. “Tiberius…”

 

Nasir winced, only slightly, but enough for Chadara to see it. He didn’t offer her his real name. He pressed his hand to hers, to the papers they held. “Tiberius is dead, and Chadara must live.”

 

Chadara smiled, sweet and sly all at once, and darted forward to hug him quickly, kissing him on the cheek. “And so must you.”

 

They drank each other in for a moment more, then Chadara headed to where the gangplank was being readied. She tucked the papers cleverly beneath her clothing and held her head high. She wasn’t made for the sea, but she had pretended well for long enough.

 

“You trust her.”

 

He turned to find one of Spartacus’ pirate women stood at his back. Mira, he remembered. They had only spoken in passing before. She looked lean and sharp in breeches to the knee and a tightly-laced waistcoat. Her feet were bare, her hair was long and dark, and there were knives gleaming on her belt. Nasir had seen her speaking with Spartacus many times and Spartacus had always seemed to listen to her.

 

“I trust that she won’t betray me,” he replied.

 

Mira nodded, but her expression displayed her disbelief. Nasir understood why – the crew knew that many of those who chose to disembark here would eventually betray what they had experienced in Spartacus’ company. But he was sure that Chadara was not one of them. Mira watched him and her frown softened, highlighting the beauty of her face.

 

“You will not join her ashore?”

 

There was a note of teasing in her voice which Nasir smiled at. He was sure that Agron had been needled many times by his fellow pirates for the attention he paid to Nasir. Now Nasir was part of that same crew too. His heart trembled, but he still managed to speak, matching her tone.

 

“I may have found sufficient reason to stay on-board.”

 

Mira bit her lip and grinned. “Gratitude. I hear you have skill with letters. A boon indeed for us; too many places require letters of substance. Such fine letterwork is beyond us.”

 

Nasir nodded and cast an eye over the deck to find Agron. There he was, talking seriously with Spartacus. Nasir’s skin prickled. Everything in him seemed more on fire in Agron’s presence. Mira laughed.

 

“I’ve never seen Agron so turned-around before. I like it.”

 

“As do I.”

 

“Of course.” Mira’s gaze caught something beyond Nasir and her expression bubbled with delight. “The Maid is here!”

 

Other crew members took up the shout and Mira must have seen Nasir’s confused expression because she paused to explain, despite her clearly overwhelming excitement.

 

“Our ship, The Maid of Thrace. We parted from her some two months ago, sending half the crew with her to search for news of Naevia and others that we seek, whilst we sailed in another direction to try and achieve the same. We agreed to meet here once certain time had passed. It’s crewed by many of Agron’s kin, and now we have this boat too, which we can make our own for some months and only increase our pace towards our goal.”

 

There was more crew? And clearly, there was somebody on-board The Maid that Mira had missed greatly. Nasir smiled at the rousing cheers the crew made as the anchor dropped and the gangplank slid into place. He watched scores of slaves leave for shore, for auction houses, for lives as free men. Something stiffened in his throat. He thought he caught a glimpse of Chadara, bright blonde hair flashing in the sun.

 

He felt Agron’s hand rest on his shoulder. He leaned back gratefully into the weight and heat of the pirate.

 

“You feel regret?” Agron asked.

 

He was worried, of course, that Nasir was already regretting his choice. But Nasir shook his head and pressed himself further against the man who would be his lover.

 

“Sadness, in saying goodbye to a friend and to what was my life.”

 

Agron slipped an arm around Nasir and Nasir let out a pleased breath. His body responded in a thousand different ways to Agron, all of them pleasurable. He couldn’t wait to express them.

 

“Ah, your thoughts turn elsewhere now.”

 

There was a light note in Agron’s voice and Nasir smiled. “They do, when in your presence.”

 

Agron’s grip tightened and they remained tangled together, happy in their heated silence.

 

“Mira says your kin are here, aboard The Maid?”

 

“Men and women of my country,” Agron agreed. “They joined our crew after we broke their bonds on a ship such as this.”

 

So not family, but fellow countrymen. Nasir nodded to himself. It was good that Agron had people close who knew of where he'd come from, who could tell the same stories he did, and speak the same tongue. Nasir wondered, for the first time in many years, about Syria. His memories of it were vague and sandy, smeared by a lifetime of service. Talking to Agron though, he wished for sharper pictures, for more. Another gift of knowing the pirate.

 

He shifted in Agron's arms. “Have you met many Syrians?”

 

Agron was quiet only for a few moments. “One, Ashur, a treacherous shit. He was Navy and claimed he followed our cause, only he truly worked for Glaber. Ashur tried to set a trap for us, we lost men but we escaped and he suffered. He still walks with a limp.”

 

Agron's tone was satisfied while Nasir puzzled through his words. Perhaps Glaber was the reason Spartacus had left the services of the Navy. Perhaps Glaver had killed his wife. Agron mistook his silence and brushed a hand reverently through Nasir's long hair.

 

“Ashur was a fuck; none here judge you by him.”

 

At that, Nasir's eyes were drawn to Crixus and Agron, noticing the direction of his gaze, curled his lip. “Crixus judges all who cross him. And Ashur claimed Naevia as his own and caused her parting from Crixus.”

 

That likely explained why Crixus still stayed silent around Nasir and why he looked at him with more than distrust in his gaze. Nasir did not begrudge him that.

 

“Agron, Tiberius,” Spartacus called from the gangplank. “We will only dock here until past noon, we cannot risk it.”

 

Even in a town where slaves were welcome to live as freemen - those who wished to reveal Spartacus' plans would have to travel somewhere else to do so. Spartacus wanted to press on and so press the advantage of time they possessed. It was likely something Crixus agreed with, moving on might bring him closer to Naevia.

 

Nasir regretfully moved out of Agron’s arms and towards the captain. Agron stayed close at his back.

 

“Nasir,” Nasir said quietly when he reached Spartacus’ side. “Tiberius no longer.”

 

Spartacus gave a nod, as though he knew what had come to pass, and gestured to the town. “You’ll be safe here, though any causing trouble will be bound and have justice meted out to them by the town’s authorities.”

 

Agron slung an arm around his companion, an easy warming gesture that gripped Nasir’s heart. “Our trouble will occur only behind closed doors.”

 

Crixus rolled his eyes but Spartacus gripped Agron’s forearm firmly, in what seemed to be his way of congratulating his friend. Agron led the way across the gangplank and onto the shore. The last time Nasir had made such a journey, he’d been in chains. He rubbed a hand across his unbound wrist.

 

“Agron!”

 

A voice pierced the heavy air and a spirited blonde threw herself into Agron's arms. Agron laughed and swung her around. Mira was heading toward them, arm in arm with a handsome man, clearly a pirate with long dark-blonde hair and a bared chest slashed with impressive scars. He met Nasir’s gaze frankly and appreciatively, something that Mira appeared to have no quarrel with.

 

“Nasir, Saxa. Be sure not to cross her before the morning’s tenth bell.”

 

Agron set the blonde down, just in time for her to sharply elbow him in the ribs before turning her sly gaze upon Nasir. She wore twisted leather and cloth, her hair a tangled mess about her face and a wicked pair of daggers at her hip. There was something irrepressible in her expression that made Nasir smile before a single word was exchanged between them.

 

“You’ve found a boy, Agron?” She turned a teasing sharp look at her friend. “Of your very own.”

 

“I found a pirate, of my very own,” corrected Nasir.

 

Saxa laughed and soundly kissed Agron on both cheeks, then Nasir. “Run circles around him. He deserves a merry dance.”

 

She twirled out of Agron’s reach and curled in on Mira’s free side instead, running a hand happily down the dark-haired woman’s body. Mira glowed with happiness.

 

“And this is Gannicus, Nasir. Never offer to buy him a drink, he bleeds taverns dry.”

 

Gannicus didn’t protest, he merely tucked Mira closer and gestured something obscene with his hands. Agron laughed and steered Nasir toward the path that would take them into the town itself.

 

“Gannicus is a drunken fuck, but he fights well and Mira keeps a weather eye on him.” Agron shook his head, something fond twisting his mouth. “Saxa stirs him to worse depths.”

 

Nasir darted a quick look back towards the intertwined trio; they were laughing together, Saxa slapping at Gannicus’ chest. There was such contentedness in them, it was as though they were the perfect eye of a storm, creating chaos but remaining utterly calm together. Nasir was jarred out of his thoughts by Agron passing him a blade for his belt.

 

“You must carry arms here,” was all the pirate said.

 

Nasir swallowed but nodded. Agron knew this place, this world, better than Nasir did. It was a town where no outside authorities ventured, and so was filled with pirates and with those who wanted to escape, for one reason or another. It was free, but it was not safe. Everybody they passed wore at least one weapon openly. Nasir wore belted breeches and a simple jerkin, the short sword at his waist. He had had the same weapons lessons as the other slaves on-board the ship and Spartacus had praised his aptitude. It still felt alien to Nasir though. Perhaps it always would, until it saved his life, or Agron’s.

 

They reached a small tavern and Agron waved at the barkeep when they entered. Donar, the ship’s cook who was never without the two axes strapped to his back, was sat at a nearby table, playing some sort of card game and drinking from a large tankard. Several women around him looked very interested. He winked when he saw Agron and Nasir but didn’t say a word. He was likely saving his japes for a more private place, away from listening outsiders.

 

Outsiders. Nasir shook his head, it had been less than an hour and he was already thinking of himself as crew, as part of this strange extraordinary group. It warmed something inside of him, and made him shiver.

 

A few of the crowd were staring at him. Nasir wasn’t uncomfortable under their gazes; his prized heritage had been the reason for his birth in the first place, his Master had wanted a beautiful and valuable slave. He had looked in glasses before too; he knew what other people saw in him and what they wanted. Agron did not look happy at the leers.

 

Nasir ran a hand gently, daringly, down Agron’s back. “Their gazes do not wound me.”

 

“I said I do not want any gaze on you but my own,” Agron reminded him, sounding like his teeth were sharp and clenched.

 

“You cannot close all eyes on me. Our troubles stay behind these doors, remember?”

 

Agron gazed at him for a long moment, with a mixture of intense fascination and heat that made Nasir’s blood rise. Agron curled an arm about Nasir and pulled him close, pressed a lingering kiss to his temple. Nasir’s skin felt as though it burned. Agron’s smile only grew and he threw a jingling pouch at the barkeep.

 

“For the day at least,” Agron told him, not tearing his eyes from Nasir. “Leave food outside by the next bell.”

 

The man muttered into his beard and Nasir did not to react to Agron’s words. They would only be here a few hours, but Agron was paying for longer. In case anybody asked about them, no doubt, in case anybody had a reason to hurt or hunt them. Pirates made enemies outside of the authorities and Navy. Taking up a flagon of rum, Agron tugged Nasir towards the staircase at the back of the tavern. There was smoke and the strong stench of spirits. Nasir didn’t comment; a slave learned first of all things to hide all reactions and opinions, to show only what their Master wanted to see.

 

The stairs creaked and led to a short hallway of rooms. Agron veered through the first open doorway, shutting the door securely after Nasir and jamming a chair beneath the handle. The room was small and cramped but the bed linen did not appear overly stained and fresh air blew in through the ajar window. And Agron was there, looking at him with great heat. There was nothing wrong with the room at all.

 

Agron took a drink of the rum before setting it down on the tiny battered table. He drew closer to Nasir, hands reaching but not quite touching “I have dreamed many nights about having you in my arms.”

 

Nasir nodded. He too had spent many nights occupied by thoughts of Agron, his sudden brilliant smile, his impressive muscled body, his quiet constant kindness, and the way he always looked at Nasir – as though he wished to devour. It was a feeling Nasir himself felt when gazing at Agron.

 

Nasir moved nearer and took hold of one of Agron's hands, revelling in the calluses and cuts he found there. He could have this, he could take it. That knowledge burned bright in him, but he found himself frozen now, as unsure as an untouched boy. When he had led before, it was because he had been ordered to. He could lead now, if he wanted, or allow Agron to. He had that choice. Nasir's head spun.

 

What did Agron wish? For someone submissive and pliant? Or aggressive and fighting, refusing to relinquish the upper hand? What did Agron want?

 

Agron was watching him carefully. “Nasir? We don't have to...”

 

“I want this,” Nasir cut in, assuring him, squeezing Agron's hand and placing it over his own heart. “Do not doubt that.”

 

Agron smiled, an expression filled with intense wonder, and he drew closer still, both hands caressing Nasir gently – his chest, his arms, his shoulder, his face. How did Agron want this? Nasir had taken that most important step – he had stayed – but now he felt adrift, unchained. It was a terrifying feeling. These were truly uncharted waters for him. He had never known life without orders, in these matters most of all.

 

Agron's lips touched his, gentle and questioning and that tenderness squeezed Nasir's heart. He sighed into the kiss and drank in more of Agron. He could taste rum and salt and the sharpness of blood and sweat. He could taste Agron.

 

Agron ran his tongue across Nasir's lips, begging entrance and moaning deep when it was granted. His arms roamed and held Nasir, safely, lovingly. Nasir pushed as close as he could, revelling in the feel of Agron so near, skin on slick skin. Agron cradled him, just as eager and greedy.

 

“What do you want, Nasir?” he panted between kisses, a keening edge to his demeanour that lit a fire up Nasir's spine. “What do you want?”

 

Nasir managed a gulp of air, pressing his hands hard against Agron. To be asked such a question would have usually left him speechless with confusion, but in that moment, the answer was obvious.

 

“You. I want you.”

 

Agron growled, in triumph, need, everything, and propelled them both towards the small bed, tumbling them to the linen and urging Nasir to take what he wanted. Nasir was overwhelmed by the feast before him and started slow and hesitant, so used to attuning himself to his Master's needs, to being what was wanted, only a reflection of desire.

 

Agron cupped his face and looked deep and fierce into his eyes. “What _you_ want, Nasir.”

 

There would be more words between them later about what they both desired, and about the time needed for Nasir's braided thoughts to shake loose. But first, there was this night. There was Nasir leaving teeth marks on Agron's chest, and Agron obliging with the same marks on Nasir. They wore each other's imprints. There was Agron laving his tongue over Nasir's fingers and finding places that made Nasir hum with pleasure. There were long kisses and Nasir being handed the lamp oil to warm between his hands, to prepare Agron, to watch the pirate's face contort with pleasure and his mouth squeeze out Nasir's name. This, Nasir knew, this, Nasir was master of.

 

He revelled in how open Agron was with words and passion, in how easily the pirate gave over control, trusting that Nasir would bring him to climax after wringing every drop of pleasure out first. Such easy trust, it made Nasir breathless, even more so than the scarred hands that stroked and caressed him and the tongue that caused his voice to break.

 

Agron's want was all Nasir. He hadn't been lying. The heat and care that Nasir had felt surrounded by since first laying eyes on Agron spiked gloriously, intensifying the sensations, along with the knowledge that they had so little time to enjoy this before the twelfth bell sounded; back on the ship there would be little privacy. Nasir surged downwards hungrily, greed possessing him even more strongly.

 

They used the time they had well.

 

Agron murmured German into Nasir's skin, letting Nasir set a rhythm, his beautiful eyes fixed on the former slave saying much more than words, English or German, ever could.

 

It did not take them long to reach completion.

 

Nasir fell breathless, speechless, onto Agron. He felt as though every part of his body was alight with fire, as though things hidden were now revealed. He felt free.

 

Agron nuzzled at him. He looked as dazed as Nasir felt.

 

They went without words for some time, communicating only through touch. On-board the ship, all they'd had was words and heated glances. Now, they were gorging on touch alone. This would be their own private language. Agron slicked Nasir's skin with rum, lapping at the sticky trickles. They ate chunks of bread, ripe cheese, and chicken, pausing to kiss and caress and feast on each other.

 

When the eleventh bell sounded, Agron regretfully got to his feet, tugging Nasir with him. He gestured to the jug of water that stood beside the rum.

 

“Bathing will be all the sweeter with such company, even if the water will chill the blood.”

 

Nasir tested the water with his fingers – Agron was not mistaken – and dipped the provided cloths in it, handing one to Agron. There would be no soaking in steaming tubs together, revelling in the hot water and the other's presence. To take Agron in such a circumstance, the idea made Nasir smile with heat. Such thoughts freedom brought.

 

Agron ran a wet cloth down Nasir's chest and kissed him with a matching knowing smile.

 

It took them some time to wash and be ready. Eventually, after more kisses and stroking, they were dressed and full of good food. Agron kissed Nasir's hand, then his cheek, then his lips, desperation sweetening the moment and making Nasir moan.

 

“Fuck,” Agron swore against Nasir's lips. “I will shut all eyes if I have to; I won't be without this 'til next shore leave.”

 

Nasir grinned and bit gently at Agron's lower lip, glorying in the moment, in his choice. “Under the sky perhaps.”

 

They left the room rumpled and well-used and Agron tossed another couple of coins to the barkeep as they left, Donar no longer playing cards nearby. The paths were crowded outside and twice Agron prevented cutpurses from stealing from them. Nasir kept a hand on the handle of his blade. His other hand stayed close to Agron.

 

There was a catcall from The Maid and Saxa laughed down at them, her hair wet and her eyes happy. Every part of her signalled joy. She was halfway up the rigging, her boot buckles flashing in the sun, and she made a gesture with one hand that caused Nasir to think of Gannicus.

 

“I thought Saxa stirred Gannicus?” he asked Agron quietly. “It seems that path runs in both directions.”

 

“It always has.”

 

Waving at Saxa, they continued on to their ship and found much work had been done. The name had been painted over, something French replacing it. Agron hissed through his teeth.

 

“Crixus.”

 

Spartacus greeted them as they came aboard. “Well met, my friends. We sail both ships to the port Naevia was sold to. If we don't find her there, we may find answers instead. Nasir, can you compose letters for entry to the barracks?”

 

Nasir nodded. “I have some knowledge. Captain Lewis sold to Navy ports and had me write many letters for them.”

 

“Excellent.” Spartacus clapped him on the back. “Once there, we will sell this ship and set sail on The Maid, until we come upon another boat of bound brothers.”

 

A plan, no doubt, to cover their tracks. Soon it would be news that Spartacus had two ships in his possession and the changing the name of Captain Lewis' ship would only work for so long. Agron clasped forearms with Spartacus and was then called away by Donar. Nasir leaned against the warm wooden side of the boat and watched the crew work, so sure of their actions, so inspired by their leader. He had his own tasks to see to too, tasks to further this cause.

 

He was about to tell Agron that he needed to search the Captain's cabin – and thank God the pirates had not thrown everything overboard or sold it – when someone uttered his name.

 

“Nasir.” It was Crixus and his face held only stoic pain. Nasir held his ground, his face a mask but he was privately wary, remembering still the powerful grip of Crixus' hand around his throat. “Apologies, there was a Syrian, a shit who stole away Naevia. The fault is not yours, but she is all that consumes my thoughts and I find that hard to see past.”

 

He offered a hand and Nasir paused but clasped it. Crixus was like Agron; deep in passion and pain. And he loved Naevia.

 

There was silence for a moment, then Crixus spoke quieter still, a hungry light in his eyes. “How was she?”

 

Nasir's lips twisted unhappily and he settled himself more comfortably. Of course Crixus hungered for detail of his love. Of course he was desperate for every scrap. Nasir could give him that. It was his choice to make. He remembered all-too-clearly Naevia's wide eyes, her hurt body, the longing in her expression as she'd looked towards the horizon.

 

“She loathed this place and the Captain's touch. There was a cut on her face, from who she did not say, but she turned away from her own reflection. She ate, she did not starve herself, but she would not be consoled or quietened in her pain and loss. She talked of you. That was all that mattered to her.”

 

Crixus was trembling and his jaw clenched painfully but he did not shout or throw fists in frustrated anger. He nodded.

 

“She lives.”

 

Nasir nodded. “She lives.”

 

Crixus pulled in a breath that shook. “Gratitude.”

 

He did not say more, perhaps because Agron approached, or perhaps because there was no more to say. He nodded at Nasir once more and then moved toward where his countrymen fought with a sail. Nasir watched until Agron wrapped arms around him.

 

“What did the shit want?”

 

Nasir smiled quietly. “Knowledge of his love.”

 

Agron pressed a kiss to Nasir's hairline in silent reply, like some sort of promise of his own dedication, one hand absently palming Nasir's hip. Among the shouts and laughter of the crew and in Agron's arms, Nasir could feel himself begin to settle in heart and head. He was building a new life and the foundations were not as sure to him as those he'd left behind. But he wanted this to a depth unknown to him before.

 

He sent a thought towards Chadara and whatever auction house or auctioneer's company she found herself in. May Chadara and Nasir both live long on their separate paths.

 

He kissed Agron's fingers.

 

_-the end_


End file.
